Bittersweet
by PlatinumPizzaKiller
Summary: Gale comes back after 20 years. How will Katniss react? Oneshot.


**Author's Note:** Wow, this popped out of no where! I do not ship Gale and Katniss, nor do I think they would be good for each other. I've never really written about Gale before, but I think I did a pretty well. Enjoy! :)

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><p>Adrenaline courses through my veins as I spot the rabbit. It sits, unaware, under a leafy Oak, nibbling on a dandelion. I pull my arrow back and aim. I hear the <em>swoosh <em>of the arrow. I smile. Straight through the eye.

"I had no idea you were still this good."

The voice is sudden and, at first, unfamiliar. After two trips to the Arena, my first instinct should be to whip around, and if needed, send an arrow straight through the heart. So why am I hesitating? Why isn't the source of the voice dead yet?

Because there is only one person that can move with so much stealth, even _I _do not know where he comes from. Only one person can appear like this, seemingly out of thin air. Only one person has that voice: deep and brooding, with a tinge of bitterness. And that one person is the one who killed my sister.

"Gale," I say without turning around. My voice is strangely void of emotion.

"Catnip," Gale replies.

"What are you doing here?" I still don't turn around.

"I came here to see you."

This time, I do turn around. A sharp breath leaves me. Those old grey eyes; the seam-black hair. The handsome face is still the same, except more aged. He looks at me now, his expression a mixture of sorrow, contempt, and desperation. My eyes drink him in, satisfying the minuscule part of me that has missed him. A strange sensation rises in me. Hatred, scorn, and rage all at once.

I search my insides, trying to make sense of the mess in me. When I look up at Gale, for some reason, I see his hands stained with blood; Prim's blood. The horrific memory of my sister flaring up in flames consumes me.

"You shouldn't have bothered," I hiss, "I have no place for you."

"Katniss," his voice is strained, "Prim-you...you can't hold a grudge against me like that."

Anger boils in my veins. My voice rises to a screech. "You murdered my little sister! What am I supposed to do? Welcome you back with open arms!"

His eyes look pained. "Katniss—"

"And how dare you," I continue, "show up like this after twenty years? Some nerve! Go back to your godforsaken district, and leave me be!"

"I love you."

Those three words. The ones that had more effect on me than getting shot. After two decades, when I have finally moved on from him, how dare he say those words to me? My face hardens. "No. No, Gale."

He takes a step towards me, and I raise my bow. His eyes look wounded. "I'm not going to hurt you, Katniss."

"Go home," I say quietly, "Please...just go."

Gale exhales. "Are you with someone?"

I clench my jaw. "None of your business."

"I'm your best friend!" He insists.

"Was," I correct bitterly.

"Don't do this to me," Gale says quietly, "Please don't. I love you, Katniss."

Before I can respond, footfalls are heard from the right. Gale immediately goes on defence mode, holding out his knife self-protectively. I do nothing, though. I know those light, awkward footsteps anywhere.

A small girl bursts thorough the trees, flashing a toothy grin. I smile back at my daughter.

I look up to capture Gale's expression. At first, it is perplexed. Then he takes in her dark hair, braided into two pigtails. He takes in her father's blue eyes. His eyes trace her mother's nose, her father's ears. Understanding washes over his face. "You," he says at last, "had a child with Peeta?"

"Children," I correct, "I've had children with Peeta."

His face looks so bewildered, I almost roll my eyes. The astonished look fades out. Dread, sorrow, and resentment take its place.

"Mom," my daughter says, "Daddy's calling you for dinner!" Her voice is distracted; she keeps sneaking glances at Gale.

I nod. "Alright. Let me just get the rabbit."

Her face lights up. "Oh! Can I?"

I nod again, a smile spreading over my face. "Sure. It's right by the Oak tree." She doesn't skip off as she usually does, though; she stares at Gale.

Gale takes a step towards her, and I raise my bow, Prim's igniting body flashing through my mind. Gale kneels down on one knee to be face to face with her. "Hi, there."

"Hi," my daughter says shyly, "Who are you?"

"I'm Gale," he says, "I...was a good friend of your mother's. I like your ribbon."

She giggles. "Daddy bought it for me!"

I do not like this. I do not like how Gale is conversing with my daughter so casually. I should sweep her away from Gale and take her home, but something is making me hesitate.

"Mommy's friends come to our house," she says, "Do you want to come?"

One look at my face is clear. "I don't think that's a good idea," Gale says, "Some...other time."

My daughter seems to accept this. I narrow my eyes at Gale. There won't be "another time". But I know that he knows this, too.

He whispers something to my daughter that I cannot quite catch. She giggles, and Gale pats her hand.

"I'm getting the rabbit!" she sings, and runs off towards the Oak.

Gale and I eye each other. Soon, my daughter will be back, and then I will go, never to see gale again. I should be relieved, but why do I feel a pang in my heart?

Before I realize what's going on, Gale has me engulfed in a hug. It's warm and steady with a hint of desperation. Unexpected tears prick at my eyes.

"I missed you," he whispers.

I don't reply. I don't have to. It's clear in the way I pull him tighter; the way he strokes my hair. Before I know it, he's walking away, and soon he's out of my sight.

_I can't believe he just left like that, _a part of me hisses.

_What did you expect? _The other part replies.

My daughter crashes through the trees. She proudly holds up the rabbit I shot. I smile at her. "Ready to go?"

She stands on the tiptoes and peers around. "Where's Gale?"

"He...he had to go." My voice catches.

"Oh..." she looks disappointed.

I take her hand. "Come on, let's go home."

"Does Daddy know Gale?"

Her words bring me to a halt. How am I going to tell Peeta about this? How will he handle it?

"Mommy!" my daughter shrieks, "You're sad!"

I force a smile. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," she says, matter-of-factly, "Here, Gale said this might cheer you up." She rummages around in her pocket while I look on curiously.

She places something in my hand. I bring it up to my face and gasp. It's a photo of me and Gale, back when we were kids, laughing on a rock. We looked so happy...

"How did he get this?" I murmur, not really expecting an answer.

"Turn it around!" she chirps.

I flip the picture. On the back, scrawled in Gale's messy writing, is a small blurb:

Catnip,

I miss you. I miss you and everything that we used to be. Things change, but that doesn't mean our friendship has to. Below is my address and phone number. I'm hoping to talk to you soon.

Gale

My hand tightens around the photo. It isn't a well thought-out, poetic testament. It's brief and messy and perfectly Gale. My eyes roam over his contact information, but the letters blur together.

I plaster on a smile, grateful that my daughter can't read yet. "Thank-you. It did cheer me up."

She grins. "Yay!"

I shove the photo deep inside my pocket. For days when I'm feeling braver, I might take it out. I might peer at the picture for a while, then inch towards the phone. Maybe I'll dial the numbers in, and then...then what?

I shake my head. I don't need to worry about that yet. I don't know if I'll ever have to.

On the walk home, all I can see is his smile. All I can't feel is his lingering hug. All I can hear is his three words.

No matter what he has done, or who has become, he was the one who had my back, the one who cared for me, the one I shared so many laughs and moments with. Gale was my best friend.

I think of the moments after I just awake from sleep. The few moments when faces of Prim, my father, Gale, Rue, and countless others flash by. What I would do to see any of them again. And now, the chance to meet one of them was practically handed to me.

I feel the photo shift in my pocket. I'm not sure, but I might be making that phone call sooner than I'd thought.


End file.
